Shooting in the Dark
by Persephone999
Summary: This is just an attempt at how I personally would have wrote Twilight. Isabella Swan has hardly unpacked before strange events start occuring at her new home. Is she as safe as she hopes she is? Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first Twilight story, as I'm not really a fan of the books, be as harsh as is humanly possible. If I need a kick, I need a kick and I'd rather know now than 20 chapters in. No pairings have been decided yet, so feel free to let me know if there's any you'd like.**

**Disclaimer: The original Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I own zip zally zilch.**

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Chapter 1

"You can come home whenever you want, okay? Izzy?"

The warm voice crackled down the phone, oozing into my veins like opium. I stood up slowly, the floorboards moaning beneath me. Anxious and excited, I pulled one of the drawers open, raising an eyebrow at the clothing with price tags still attatched; almost Amish skirts, a purple sweater, and a ruffled dress that would have been my favourite possesion had he given me it the last time I'd stayed over, a good twelve years before. At least Dad was trying to grease the gears a bit, make the move a bit easier. The thought was sweet, if misguided.  
"I know Mom," The words dropped from my lips, heavier than lead. Did she think I would leave her on a whim? For the father I barely saw, the man I knew through the post and, if I was very lucky, a weekend in Forks every once in a million years? Ha!

"Are you sure? You sound..." The voice paused for a minute, as though trying to translate what her maternal instincts were shouting."Do you want me to say anything to Phil for you?" Letting the phone thud onto the pillow, I rested my elbows on my knees, my hands shoving their way through my hair and twisting strands around my fingers, half wanting to tear them from my scalp. Phil. They'd both been so good to me- mad, but brilliant at the same time, like a Picasso painting. If I hadn't _wanted_ to give my mom and her husband a shred of time alone together, I'd almost have said I owed them.

It wasn't like I had lots of friends to leave behind. Wow, that's an understatement if ever there was one. Saying I wasn't liked was still being generous, not that I told Mom- why worry her? The small grains of friendship I had found at my old school hadn't been nurtured into pearls, probably because I was always reading, wasting time, hiding in my bubble or generally being that boring girl in the corner without any friends. It was a part I played well, so I'd just be another pedestrian they'd passed on the road to Heaven. In a way, I was free. Besides, any kind of drama would be welcome to me, I decided.

Picking the phone back up, I took a deep breath, scanning the blank bulletin board. I could put photos of them up. The room was almost alien compared to the last time I'd been there, which explained why my dad had been a bit more vocal last time we talked as opposed to his normal "nod and grunt". I had to admit he'd done a pretty good job of the room- I could still smell the fresh paint. The moonlight floated down through the window, wrapping my new bedroom in a gossamer glow. Stars glimmered in the indigo sky, clear and fixed as a blueprint for a machine. Without warning, a thought hit me like a floppy wet fish. The reason for all my problems in Phoenix was me; I had no friends because I wasn't friendly, I was bored because I let myself become boring, I was hopeless because I never hoped. I was my own stupid creation. Why stay that way?

Thinking about my life turned into the string leading out of the Minotaur's cave- every solution lead to a new solution. Didn't know anyone? The school had a couple hundred students, one was bound to like me at least a little bit. Possibility of getting lost? Ask someone for directions, perhaps it would begin a friendship. Worried about awkwardness at home? It wasn't like Charlie was a bad guy. There must have been something good about him for Mom to love him, even if it fell apart in the end. Frightened about exams? Studying wouldn't hurt me.

Stretching my face into a smile, I raised the phone to my ear again, hoping that now I'd managed to convince my face that everything was fine I could convince my mother.

"It's Forks Mom, not Venus. I'll be fine, honest."


	2. Chapter 2

If you're reading this, then thanks for giving this story a chance. I know that there's quite a few Twilight re-writes and I appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Mrs. Meyer, please don't sue.

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Think Apocalypse. Think evil mastermind takes over the world. Think alien invasion. Add them together, mix with a pinch of terror, leave in an oven that runs on fear, and you'll be somewhere near my feelings on that first day of school.

All right, maybe I was blowing things just the _slightest_ bit out of proportion. Maybe. For the umpteenth time that morning, I smoothed the creases out of my jumper, trying to reassure myself.  
"Izzy, you'll be fine," I insisted, pulling my hair into a bun. Dissatisfied, I let it back down again. My mind thought back to one of the girls at my old school, a tall, blue-eyed blonde with wavy hair that trickled like lemon juice. Why wouldn't my muddy-brown mouse tails go like that? Sort of satisfied that I looked somewhere near presentable, I stared at the mirror, able to see every flaw in the dim sunrise; the hangnail on my left hand, the lurking red spot ready to jump up at any moment, the bushy hairs on my eyebrows where I'd been too cowardly to pluck them. Oh well, I didn't need to be a supermodel for school. I just needed to grow a spine and talk to people.  
"It'll be alright," I mouthed to my reflection, my voice drawling like a bad actor's. Mirror Izzy frowned back at me, raising an eyebrow as though to say what Mr. Roberts, my old maths teacher, had asked almost every lesson: What are we going to do with you, Isabella Swan? I didn't have an answer, so I grabbed my schoolbag, clutching it like a child with a rag doll as I ran out the door.

"You'll be fine Izzy, it's just school. You'll be fine Iz-" At that point, it occurred to me that I hadn't actually been to this school before and, more importantly, had no clue where it was. Once this realisation hit me like a rubber chicken in a slapstick comedy, I lingered foolishly on the drive for a moment before shuffling back into the house. When I blundered back inside, the television was babbling in the background, drowning me out before I'd even started. Perhaps it was just as well Charlie's attention was on the electronic box, because whatever show was on was probably far more interesting than watching me dither like an idiot. What did I call this man? Dad? Charlie? I wondered if this was rude. Knowing I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, I took a deep breath and prepared to babble.  
"Ch- Dad?" Mom had always called him 'Charlie', but I decided that 'Dad' was my best bet. Thankfully, I don't think he noticed my little slip.  
"Yes?" He turned to face me, scrutinising me the same way I'd scrutinised myself while I was getting ready. Trying to figure out where the hell his little girl was in this mumbling teenager. I hesitated for a moment. What did I say to a familiar stranger? Maybe it was good that I'd never bothered to dye my hair or wear make-up, good that Charlie was in his uniform with the same messy, dark curls with the cow licks sticking up. Perhaps if we'd stared for long enough, we could have found each other as we were, before I grew up a bit, before he grew up a bit. But I broke the silence, so we didn't find each other.  
"Could you please tell me..." I paused, thinking of the other questions I had tucked up in my head. Did he miss Mom? Did he miss me? What the hell was meant to happen now? Stubbing out these questions like half-smoked cigarettes, I continued. "Do you know which way is the school?"

The van was silent. Well, I say the van- if anything, the thing wouldn't shut up. It spluttered, it groaned, it moaned, it coughed like a consumptive. The way the vehicle seemed to talk was almost a blessing- it meant I didn't have to. I couldn't really see if Charlie was frowning or not- the moustache, you see- but he seemed less relaxed than he had in the house, his back rigid as though someone was pressing a knife to it. He tapped his fingers on the wheel rhythmically when we stopped at the red lights, mumbling something under his breath. Song lyrics, perhaps. That was what Mom always did when she was nervous. Then again, perhaps he was thinking something along the lines of, Please God, if you're up there laughing at me, will you please put me out of my misery and change the traffic lights? If so, he was in good company. Neither of us were huge talkers, but I would have gladly murdered someone for a conversation at that second. Thankfully, words finally managed to escape from under the moustache, so I didn't have to go to that extreme.  
"How's your mother?" he asked, staring straight ahead at the lights. He voice was quite deep, possibly a baritone. His fingers were still tapping away at the steering wheel.  
"She's fine," I told him. "Her and Phil are happy enough." Thankfully, he stopped drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He still didn't look at me, but at the glaring red light. Perhaps this would be an opportunity for a conversation. "Have you found anyone?" I asked, not sure what to hope for. Didn't I have enough to adjust to? Had my dad ever got over Mom? Then again, didn't Charlie deserve someone nice? He told me that as we pulled up that no, he hadn't, abruptly killing a chat that had barely been limping along to begin with.

Outside of the school I stood quaking, insignificant as an ant. Hearing the van splutter away, terror festered in my stomach. I shoved the fear down- I couldn't go through my life afraid. Thinking back to the van ride, I smiled in the comfort that, in a few hours, I'd be at the house again. Had I even say "bye" when I shut the door? Did he hear me if I did? Clutching my schoolbag, I tried to shake the thoughts from my head. Either way, it was the past now, so it didn't matter- I had a new world in front of me, and a present to focus on.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine.

Chapter 3

I'd never seen so much rain in all my life.

Outside, the rain seemed to go from a few droplets to a tempest as I blundered into the reception, bouncing off the sidewalk like shrapnel. Maybe that was why the woman behind the desk didn't look up when I opened the door. Caught in a daydream, she scraped a nail file against her fingertips, staring aimlessly at her hand. Quietly, I coughed, hoping she would hear me and answer the ocean of questions I'd been drowning in the entire morning. Where did I go? What was I meant to do? What if I did something so mindblowingly silly that I was sent to Coventry? No such luck. Still filing her nails as though I wasn't even there, she hummed something under her breath- a pop song, I think. Persisting, I tried again, a little louder this time in case she hadn't heard me over the bellowing wind. Eventually, she asked my name, waited for me to nod and shoved a piece of paper towards me before re-devotingher attention to her nails in case her they'd grown three inches while she wasn't looking. Perhaps she mumbled something, but I couldn't hear her over the rain clattering against the road like china, each fat droplet faster than a bullet from a machine gun. Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink. Sorry, Coleridge, but it was true.

Pressing my finger gently along the paper as I read the timetable, my lips stretched into a genuine smile and the tiniest amount of reassurance oozed into my veins, soothing me like like opium. English Literature had Othello on the reading list. Rime of the Ancient Mariner was hidden among a few modern texts, too, so I wasn't completely doomed. From the time I understood the alphabet, Mom had drilled the importance of reading into me and encouraged me to gobble up any literature I could get my hands on, an order I'd obeyed gladly. Perhaps it was the worrier in me- a book could take me to the Taj Mahal, the top of a waterfall or the cobbled streets of London, but if the imagery became too scary I could close the page(although I usually came crawling back). Another Godsend was that I didn't have math on that day- if the subject was a person then I'd probably have strangled it.

My smiled faded when I realised that she haven't given me a map. Had she thought I wouldn't need one, considering the size of the building? What if I walked into the wrong English class? What if I couldn't find the toilets? What if I mistook a cupboard door for a classroom entrance? Alright, the last one was a little silly, but I didn't trust myself in this foreign building.  
"Um, excuse me?" My feeble attempt at catching her attention was lost under the rain. Barely a minute later, when I'd gathered up enough courage to speak at a decent volume, she glanced up, her mouth unsmiling.  
"Yes?" Her voice was sharp, tinny like a school bell. Swallowing, I took a step towards the desk, hating myself for daring to tremble. Was I that pathetic? What was I worried she'd do, give me a manicure?  
"I... Could you tell me where Room Ten is, please?" I asked quietly, tucking a nonexistent strand of hair behind my ear and lowering my eyes. It was then that it occurred to me that I probably should have brought a coat with me from Phoenix- the rainwater banging relentlessly against the window didn't sound ready to stop any time soon, and I didn't have much faith in my flimsy fleece. I'd have to ask Charlie for money, assuming I could survive until three o'clock.

Fidgeting as I waited for the woman to find a map, I heard wet shoes slap against the floor. Turning around, I saw a girl of about my age dart in, wringing out a soaking wet lock of rum brown hair as she made a beeline for the desk.  
"Hi, listen, I know I'm late but..." Gushing that she was sorry but traffic was hell and her car wouldn't start, the girl's apology turned into a strange melody from the speed she blurted it out, an odd, bouncing tune so quick that I was surprised her glossed lips didn't drop off. Folding her arms and raising her eyes to the ceiling as though this was a usual annoyance, the secretary eventually snapped at her to take "Miss Swan" to Biology, looking supremely irritated at the fact that she'd had to waste time on a chatterbox and a frightened stranger when she could have been filing what was left of her nails.

Miss Motormouth(who introduced herself as Jessica) darted away from the glaring secretary and over to me, gushing hello and how was I finding Forks I'd love it there and I must have missed Forks and other things that got lost in the tornado of conversation. Not sure if I was necessary to this chat, I just let her babble- no point shooting the albatross. Besides, what was I meant to say to her? My friends were Stoker, Shelley and the Bronte sisters so if I was totally honest, Miss Motormouth was an alien to me. A helpful alien, mind you. In fact, the moment she darted off for French class after guiding me to my first class, I missed almost as much as I'd missed Mom on that first night in Forks.

When I got to English Literature, it was sheer luck that the only seat left was next to a boy with blond, messy hair that he kept having to brush away from his eyes. While not chattier than Jessica(if that was possibly), he did ask me about Phoenix, my mom, my friends(I made a few names up) and a few other things. Still frightened by all this new company, I forced myself to smile and give answers instead of grunts or nods, though I did catch myself fiddling once or twice. Luckily, the effort paid off- by the time the bell commanded us to go to dinner, he'd told me that his name was Mike, that he worked at his parents' D.I.Y store and that he wanted to be a teacher. Given the constant grin and his patience when I took too long to reply, I guessed he'd be good at it.

Thankfully, the torrent outside was starting to calm as Jessica, Mike and I sat down at a table. Once we'd sat down from the queue, my two new friends dropped their bags onto the two seat next to them. Wondering if I should do the same thing, I looked at the bags for a second.  
"Saving the seats Angela and Eric," Mike explained. "In case they come down today. You'll like them, won't she Jess?" Oddly quiet in comparison to that morning, Jessica agreed happily before asking if I'd met anyone apart from them, flashing a secret smile at Mike. Once I said I hadn't, they quickly set about pointing their friends out, pausing patiently to let me soak up the information. Running my eyes over the room, I tried to recite some of the names to check I'd got them right(I mostly didn't). Eyes flickered to a table a few feet away, I paused, goosebumps rising on my skin for some reason.

If they'd been chatting and smiling like everyone else, I probably wouldn't have noticed them. But this group of students seemed almost petrified, as though they'd sat like that for so long that they'd turned to stone. Sitting silently with their untouched meals, they seemed to radiate hostility judging from the way other students scooted away from their table unless walking past was totally necessary. Oddly, none of them seemed happy or even comfortable in each other's company; a tiny, skinny girl with short hair stared out of the window, a blond girl glanced at the apple on her tray as though someone had served her swill, a huge man who couldn't possibly have been young enough to attend a college had an arm snaked around the blond girl's shoulders, and a smaller boy with the expression of a hungry chiuaua sat rigid, arms by his sides and back straight as a ruler, as though he was a soldier preparing to salute his officer. Why were they hanging around each other to sit there wordless, not even trying to talk to each other? What was the point?

Skimming my eyes across the table to the final face, I flinched. The last student, a boy, was staring at me as though he'd mistaken me for an old friend and couldn't quite make out my features. His eyes wide open, he gawped unashamedly and leaned forward for a better leer. It was probably the closest thing to socialising any of them were doing. Embarrassment hot on my cheeks, I turned my head, tugging the lock of hair from behind my ear to hide my face, a few questions weaving their way into my head. Who were the group of teenagers and why were they hanging around each other when they didn't have a thing to say to each other? In a rare moment of silence, I asked Jessica their names. Quickly putting her sandwich down, she turned her head towards the group then glanced back to me, twisting the gold chain around her neck as though the group were so boring that she needed to do something to entertain herself while talking about them.  
"They're the Cullens. We think they bite. Watch," A moment later, she rose from the table and strode over to them. Within the two seconds it took Mike to ask what I thought she'd like on her gravestone, their expressions had sent her flying back to us.  
"What did they say?" I asked, leaning forward. "Did they say 'hi'?"  
"No chance. It's like talking to the Loch Ness Monster."  
"What is?"

The first thing that struck me about this girl was that, she seemed much nicer when seperated from her clique. While the blond girl looked lonely somehow, fidgeting with a lemon coloured curl, the friendliness in the little brunette's face shone like a sunbeam. The three men looked almost painted in their stillness; this girl bounced from foot to foot, witchy boots clacking against the linoleum. But the oddest thing about her had to be her eyes. Light and glistening like a nugget of gold in the bottom of a pan. Contacts, perhaps? They couldn't posibly be natural. Apparently I didn't hide my opinion very well, because the stranger giggled shrilly at my expression. Giggling back with the world's worst acting skills, I tried to pull my face into something that might resemble calmness. A proper Phoenix girl wouldn't have been so easily embarrassed. At least I didn't have to ask why she'd came over.  
"This fell out of you pocket," the yellow-eyed girl grinned, holding out a chewed blue biro to Jessica, who picked it up without a word. So much for biting. Perhaps the Cullens were simply shy? Just to check, I glanced at the smallest boy, the one who looked most like the other girl. Immediately, he turned his head, sporting the same expression he might have done if I'd jumped up on the table and stripped off.

Trying to break the silence, Jessica stopped fiddling with the necklace for a minute and pointed at me.  
"Alice, this is Bella," I didn't correct her. Bella? The name was adult, sophisticated- a heck of a lot more grown up than Izzy, anyway. Bella conjured up a picture of someone confident, someone with heaps of friends who wasn't scared of anything. In short, someone better than me. Turning to look at Mike, I realised that he's been too busy with his fries to notice. Maybe I'd transform to fit the name if I let it stick? After all, it helped Jane Eyre to become Jane Elliot. "Alice" snapped her head around to me, a laugh glittering in her odd eyes.  
"I know who she is, Jessica." How? my brain whispered, paranoia wiggling its way into my head like a worm into the dirt. Had people been talking about me? The school was tiny. Maybe this timid new girl was a novelty in a school with no strangers, even if she was a wimp. Either way, the glitter-eyed girl seemed happy enough to see me, her left hand clutching her arm as her mouth twitched into a little smile.  
"How do you like this place, then?" she asked, eyes like sparklers.  
Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Before I could answer, the bell interrupted, trilling out the order telling me to get my backside to biology.  
"Well, I better go. Oh, and one last thing- watch out for the van," What the hell did that mean? Before I could ask, she grinned and flitted off quicker than a hummingbird, leaving my nerves in smithereens.


	4. Chapter 4

Extra special thanks to Carissa for her help and encouragement. Sorry this took so long, but things have been a little hectic.

Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine. I do not own the rights to anything referenced here.

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Chapter 4

"He's cute, isn't he?"

Cheeks glowing like red traffic lights, I shrugged the question off for the umpteenth time that week. What do you say when someone asks your opinion of a boy? After all, saying "No" might sound like you're being nasty; but if you agree, and they like that boy...

Then again, maybe that was just me being silly old Izzy and overthinking it. Miss Motormouth probably thought I was some class of freak.  
"Come on, Bella, there must be someone you like," she persisted, her wide eyes expectant. Smiling, I shook my head.  
"I just don't notice these things."  
"What, never?"  
"Well, occasionally..." Admittedly, there had been one or two boys at my old school. Maybe if I'd been brave enough to ask someone. Even the thought made my cheeks hot enough to roast marshmallows over.

At the sight of my expression, a triumphant grin spring onto Jessica's face.  
"You're bright red, Bella. Have you found someone and not told me?"  
"No! I mean, erm... No, I haven't,"  
"So no secret shrines in your locker?"  
"No,"  
"No unsent love letters in your room?"  
"No,"  
"Are you sure?"  
"N... Yes, I'm sure,"  
"Spoilsport," Her tone was light, whimsical.  
"Sorry. In future I'll try to fancy more boys," I must have said something right, because a little giggle jumped from her lips.  
"Good to know," she chuckled, her eyes beaming as she remembered something. "Hey, there's a bit of a get-together Friday night at the Reservation. Want to come?" she asked, a smile still present in her voice.

"Um..." I studied her expression for any clue that she might have been having me on. In Phoenix I'd been a social catapilar, forever sat in the corner of the library as other girls flitted from friend to friend. in truth, being under Jessica's wing was a novelty. I'd been in Forks for two weeks at this point, and only now was I willing to believe that the general friendliness wasn't a big prank at the new girl's expense.

Miss Motormouth looked at me, grinning her candy-kiss grin, a hand rubbing her upper arm. How long had I been dithering?  
"Uh... Sure! I'll ask Charlie about it, see what he says," I promised, my lips stretching into a smile. Who knew? Maybe I'd have fun.  
"Perfect." Before her top teeth could touch her lower lip to form the f, the bell ordered her to Spanish. "Ugh. You're so lucky you didn't take a language. Anyway, call me, yeah?" she grinned before vanishing down the hallway, giving me a little wave as she disappeared through a door and left me to my own devices.

The library a few doors down was comfortably small. Outside, Washington's rainy lullaby pattered against the window, watering the flowers as I sat down in a blue armchair in the corner of the room. The electric lights glowed like fireflies as I sat down, occasionally flickering. Row on row of books covered the walls; paperbacks, newspapers, scrapbooks of historic events. A small vase was posed proudly on the desk, the strong, clean scent of lavender floating through the room. Best of all, the room was quiet, warm and totally empty.

I say it was empty.

I was about three chapters into The Handmaid's Tale when I realised the cafeteria boy was looking at me. Raising my head, I saw his eyes swivel to the window. Had I imagined it? Shaking my head, I returned my gaze to the page, getting through another chapter before I felt myself shiver under his gaze again. Lifting my head, I caught his gaze; odd, between repulsion and curiosity and something else, almost like watching your grampa taking his glass eye out.

Was I doing something wrong? Had someone been sitting there, popped out for a second, and asked him to mind their seat? No, he'd have just told me if that was the case, and that look was a bit strong if that was the problem. Unless I'd unintentionally upset him at lunch, too.

Dismissing that, a second idea came to mind: _He fancies you_.

No, that's not right, I told myself. He's probably just shy. Glancing down at the world in my lap, I turned the page. Was it a good idea to go over? Maybe he wanted to talk. Was that why he stared? Why was I even thinking about this? Shutting my book, I placed it aside and stood up. There was no harm in making conversation if I could.

"Um... hi,"

That awful expression remained on his face as he looked up at me from the upside-down book in his lap and, without warning, pity shot through my body. Purple shadows circled his eyes, shocking against skin so pale that I couldn't help worrying. Anemia, perhaps?

"I, uh, don't want to interupt, but... Do you know... when the Hardy essay is due in for English?" I asked, offering up a smile to smooth over the uncertainty in my voice. His white fist clenched.

"Friday," he muttered, staring at the circles on the wooden desk. He had a strong voice. I suppose it matched his features.

"Thank you," I said, feeling my smile slip slightly. Turning to leave, I looked back at him. "Sorry... I don't know your name. I'm Bella. Who are you?"  
"Edward Cullen,"_  
_"Oh... That's a nice name." No reply came, so I made my excuses and went back to my seat, deciding that Margaret Atwood and Offred were better company until Jessica came to get me. I thought little of it at the time.

Friday Night hurtled towards me before I knew it. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I glanced out my window at the spangled sky. A full moon. Hopefully, that was a good omen. Tucking a stray strand back, I grabbed the large bottle of lemonade I'd bought on the way home and darted downstairs to say goodbye to Charlie before I stepped out onto the street to meet Jessica.  
_  
_"There you are!" she smiled, her pretty blue eyes sparkling. "Come on, then, it's only a short walk. There's not many of us going, only about eight. Is it eight? Wait, let me think..." I was more than happy to smile and nod until we got to the meeting place, a little clearing in the forest with a blanket of autumn leaves. In the firelight, I saw six or seven faces who Miss Motormouth quickly introduced me to; Eric, Angela, Lauren, Tyler, and a final, more familiar face.

The last boy to be named was a fair bit taller than me and smiling, with long hair that brought to mind an Indian brave, albeit far less scary. For some reason, my mind ran ahead and tried to guess his name. John? Joe? Jamie?  
_  
_"Bells, this is Jacob Black," Jessica smiled. I got the first letter right, then. "He's in the year below." She gave me a little nudge forward. "Jacob, this is Bella Swan," Nodding, I was about to introduce myself when his smile widened.  
"Izzy!"

It was the nickname that did it. Swirling in the back of my mind was a dusty memory of a grassy back garden, a swing, the smell of fresh grass and fresh air, cotton clouds, a little girl and a little boy. The boy, the son of my dad's friend, had been called Jake. The boy in front of me looked a bit like Jake, an enlarged version. So that was where I knew him from.

Before I could reply, I was wrapped into a crushing hug that made Miss Motormouth giggle behind me.  
"I see you two know each other already,"  
"We used to be friends when we were kids," Jacob explained to her. "Weren't we, Iz? Wasn't expecting you back. It's been what, six years?"

"About. I can't believe you remember me. You've shot up,"  
"Yep. How've you been? Still a bookworm?"  
"Yeah... Yeah I am," I smiled. "Not as myth-mad now, though," He gave a little laugh, which swirled with mine in the air. He understood. Seeing Jessica's eyebrows jump, I began to explain."I, um, went through a phase. A few phases, to be honest. I used to really like all the supernatural stuff. Ghosts and Dracula and werewolves and stuff."_  
_"Ah," Miss Motormouth smiled without a hint of condescension. People at my old school had thought it was a bit weird, that I was just some kind of goth that couldn't even be bothered dying her hair._  
_

"I remember my dad thinking a phase when I told him I didn't want to eat meat anymore." Eric piped up as I sat down, his eyes shining behind thick glasses in the firelight. "That was two years ago and I haven't touched it since. We're not allowed phases in my house anymore,"  
I smiled, taking the bottle of beer a very pretty blonde girl passed to me. I didn't drink it. I need to make that clear now.

My curfew came far too soon. After a bear hug courtesy of Jessica and waving goodbye to the group, I began my walk through the forest alone- it wasn't far, and I thought I could remember the way. I thought I could.

My geography has never been good, and I didn't know the forest well enough to tell the exact route I took that night, but I was wandering about for a good twenty minutes before anything started to look familiar. If I had been tired, I might have imagined the dancing shadows to be monsters in the night, crawling forward to get me. I might have imagined that I could hear something behind me besides the wind, maybe an ancient Greek god come to take me away to the Underworld to be his queen. I might have imagined a brush of cold skin against the nape of my neck. I might even have imagined, under the scent of night air and dewdrops, the slightest smell of rotting flesh under perfumes. I was not tired.

As I walked along, a growling, groaning noise made me turn me head. Was that a bear? Jessica hadn't said anything about bears, had she? Then again, Jacob used to talk about wolves...

Shuddering, I shook my head and continued walking, but it wasn't long before the voices came; silvery, trickling laughter, followed by a metallic male voice that seemed to coil around my neck like chains and pull me through the trees to the speakers. Watching the scene unfold from a few feet away, my heart stopped. I'd heard that voice before.

Three dark figures knelt on the floor of the clearing, dirt darkening their white knees. Their faces were overshadowed, but the slits of moonlight stabbing through the trees gave me some sketchy details; a blonde, a brunette, a man. Oblivious so far to me, the terrible trio looked down at their prey, the blonde actually licking her lips like a wild animal as she bent her neck to tuck into her meal: a bear-shaped, lifeless lump of fur. Blood pooled around the bear, the smell of copper and rot slithering into my nostrils, cutting off the oxygen, choking me, drowning me, burning my throat like bile.

I couldn't stop myself- within seconds I was on my hands and knees, retching. All that blood, that was what did it. Oh God, that poor animal...

If I'd opened my eyes, I might have seen the shadow growing behind me and scrambling up before a pair of hands clamped around my waist and flung me back so that I stumbled and fell against the root of a tree. Before I could cry out, I was grabbed by the neck and yanked up to my captor's height, the tree bark clawing my back. I could see his mouth, now, though it was too dark to see the rest of him. The lips curled a little. They were tinted red with blood.

I froze, knowing my puny fists were no match. Eyes wide, I tried to find the breath to plead, to beg, to cry out for help. His hand was curled tight around my throat. Another shoved between the bark and my back. The mouth smiled, teeth gleaming. Had he breathed, I'd have been able to feel it scorch my skin. For a stretched moment, I worried he was going to kiss me. Blood dripped down the side of his chin onto my clean, white, shirt.

I turned my head to the side, hearing no noise but my own whimpers. So this was how I was going to die.

"Stop, don't!" My eyes darted to the the woman. Horror twisted her moonlit features as she stepped closer, away from the shadows. "Let m... Let her go,"

Her hair was gold, her looks were free, her skin was white as leprosy, the nightmare Life-In-Death was she. Count on me to think of Coleridge in a situation like that.  
"Leave her, please," she begged, as though it was her, not me, whose life depended on it.

The silhouetted man's head turned from her to me. What a sight I must have looked; pale, pathetic, bloodied, whimpering, a hand around my neck, my terrified face a breath away from his, my skin cold and goosepimpled like an uncooked bird, tears glistening on my cheeks, legs buckling beneath me, trembling like some poor bugger dragged into an alleyway, totally at his mercy. If he had mercy.

"Keep out of it, Rosalie," was the reply, his fingers loosening just enough to let me breathe. He might have been obeying her; or he might have wanted to toy with his prey.  
"No! Control yourself," Her voice was a little harder now. Her eyes were on me, shining like mirrors. "No one will believe her, anyway," This was punctuated by a little laugh from the brunette. Don't ask me what was funny.

The hand remained on my throat.  
"Why not?" demanded the voice. "She came to me by herself. Why shouldn't I have her?"  
"We're too close to town."  
"She's right." came a higher voice(the brunette). "You can have one another time," Another giggle.  
"But I have it now," It. I was it.  
"And she might tell, and what then for us?" the brunette asked.  
"If you do, I'll tell Carlisle," the blonde threatened, her eyes blazing like twin suns in the dark. "What do you think our father would say about this? Besides, who will she tell?" The hand around my neck relaxed as she spoke again. "Listen to her. Is she going to tell?"

The man turned his head back to me. What I could see of his face frowned.  
"I don't know..." He brought his cheek to mine. Wincing, I braced myself. Please, I begged in my head, if you're going to kill me then please just make it quick. "I can't hear," he told the women. I blinked. Couldn't hear what?_  
_"What?" Her tone solidified. "Oh, you idiot, you must have grabbed her too hard. How will we explain this? This isn't Seattle, people will notice she's gone, you stupid-"  
"But her heart's still beating." her sister chirped. "Listen," There was a sigh, then the blonde girl sighed.

"Never mind." With a swift shove, she pushed the man out of the way and towards the trees, glancing to the brunette. "Get him home, I'll catch up." she ordered. As they vanished, she turned to me and grabbed my arm a lot harder than you'd expect someone her size to be able to. "And you," she told me, yanking me forward."I'm going to let go of you, and you are going to run until you're inside your house, do you hear me?" I nodded, too frightened to argue. "Good," she said, letting go. "This didn't happen,"

I didn't argue. The second she let go I shot back to the house, locking the door behind me.  
"Izzy, is that you?"  
"Yes, Dad," I called, already at the top of the staircase. Accidentally slamming the bedroom door behind me, I gasped a breath. I was in my room, staring at the purple walls. Safe and sound.

Glancing at myself in the mirror, I winced at the choker of violet bruises around my neck. I'd have to wear a scarf or something. Without a word, I pull my torn, bloodstained shirt off and dropped it in the bin before pulling on some clean pjamas. My hair was a mess, and even after I'd brushed my teeth, I could taste vomit. No amount of daydreaming could print those marks onto my skin. Unsure of what else to do, I yelled a goodnight to Charlie, then replied to an email from my mother asking what I'd been up to. My reply was something along these lines:

_Fine, thanks. Went out with Jessica tonight. Night. Love you. xxxx_

I didn't tell her about _them_, of course. Let's be honest, would you have believed me?_  
_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I know this chapter may seem a little odd, but bear with me. It's going to be important later on.

* * *

Chapter 5

I was dreaming. I thought I was dreaming- why else would I feel a cold breeze when I knew for a fact I'd closed the window? The wind kissing my face was surely just my imagination. Of course, there _couldn't_ be a mist seeping through to my room, an tiger-lily haze, fuzzy and blurred like a blob of smudged marmalade. And even in foggy Forks the clouds were only grey- sometime black or white, like an old movie by Alfred Hitcock.

Even if an shimmering haze of gold was in my bedroom, why- except in a dream- would it take shape? And the shape of a person, too? A big man, bigger than me. I had to be dreaming for that black shadow to appear from the shimmering gold like some secret, supernatural sweetheart. My mind was simply sorting out the strange events of that night; the man who had me by the throat, the cold air, my petrifying, freezing fear that pinned me to my bed, even in dreams.

My subconscious mind in any case wasn't very creative- the man had no face but two, burning, leonine eyes. Tiger's eyes. Phoebus' eyes. Eyes like a malevolent god, staring at _me_ as though I, in a pink nightie that shrouded pale, shivering skin, was the threat- as though my puny arms could fight him. Those eyes, the only bit of a missing face, reflected how I imagined I might have looked when I found myself at _their_ mercy; confused, shocked, blood-curdlingly frightened. And what sense would that make?

Anyway, this... being, who had supposedly slipped into my room, in my house, come through my closed window... just to stare? A burglar would come in to burgle. A killer would kill. Who came in just to stare at some plain-faced dreamer? So it had to be my imagination. So of course I didn't scream. Only mad people scream at what isn't there, and I wasn't mad.

Logic told me that I was dreaming. That's why I laid there, watching from beneath my lashes with a sleepy, lazy nod of acknowledgement that made the dream creature jump, lion's eyes wide with a drowning kitten's fear as he searched my face, as though he was trying in vain to read a blank piece of paper. You'll think I'm some kind of freak for this... there was something else shrouded in that fear, a silent look that spoke: What are you, wicked weakling and why did you beckon me to you? What do you want with me, you stupid, feeble girl? If I'd only realised then that there was no dream, I might have answered: Nothing. I want nothing.

That's what I would have said, if I'd known that I wasn't dreaming- if I'd known there really was someone in my room that night. However, like any frightened child, I convinced myself that it couldn't be real, so I merely waited in the oasis between sleep and waking. I waited until he left, in that same orange haze, and forgot him by sunrise. The whole thing had been over in the blink of an eye.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Saturday sunrise: Mother Nature's masterpiece.

I found myself awake early as the sunlight crept over my window sill, and spent most of the morning browsing the internet. Thinking back to my "dream", I missed my mom- she loved interpreting dreams(or trying to). How I used to tease her.

_Lizards_, she'd asked, a plucked eyebrow raised. _Are you sure?_  
_Yeah._  
_On a trampoline?_  
_Yes. There was a clown dancing the tango with an emu, too. So what does that mean?_  
_It means_... she'd said, with one eyebrow raised as she flicked through the book. Her fingernails are painted orange with little yellow canaries. _Hmm..._  
_What is it?_  
_Well, I have two theories._  
_That was quick._  
_You either have a weird brain that isn't wired right-_  
_You don't say._  
_Or- _her face blooms into an impish smile_- my-a Bella has a-been a-fooling her mama.  
_And then I'd laugh, and so would she.

The clock told me it was five o'clock, so too early to make the big breakfast I'd planned for Charlie(rough week at work). A walk, maybe? To clear my head? Silently, I walked upstairs and pulled a clean, blood-red shirt over my head then wriggled into my jeans. The sun peeked over the window sill, spilling drops of golden light onto the floor. The only noise was the high, sweet birdsong and the low, heavy snores floating from Charlie's room. Downstairs I began to write a note:

_Charlie,_

No, that wouldn't do. Crumpling the paper I began again on a fresh sheet.

_Dad,_

_I'm going out for a walk, but I'll be back soon._

Better, but again my pen paused. You see when I made these notes to Mom, I always added "Love you" at the end. Occasionally I added a little doodle. Was that too personal? I did love him, I just... Well, it was tricky, connecting Charlie with Daddy. In the end I scribbled the first thing I could think of:

_See you soon,_

_Bella._

I never wondered what Heaven smelled like until I stepped out that morning, and then I felt I knew; grass jewelled with dew, smoky mist, a daisy haze. I bent to pick up a brown, crumpled leave and it turned to golddust under my fingers, trickling through the air to the damp, grey sidewalk. The morning had none of Phoenix's unmissable beauty but it had its own subtle loveliness that took my breath away the moment I bothered to look for it.

I found myself at St. Isidore's Church after a while, a building marked with a cross and the most beautiful stained windows. But the glittering glass, the pure blue waves under Noah's ark, was not what grabbed my attention as I walked past. What caught my attention as I turned the corner of the ancient building with its arches and huge stones smoothed by a century of rain, was the graveyard the church cast a huge shadow over, because I heard a clergy singing inside and couldn't understand why a woman in black clothes and a thick black veil knelt between two tombstones, her hands pressed together and her head bowed.

Immediately, worry rattled my bones. What was the old dear doing outside in the middle of a mass? Surely a church would never have kicked her out. She'd catch cold with her knees in the wet grass. Glancing at the two weathered gravestones I suddenly thought I understood. Was she mourning relatives? Friends? Perhaps- and my heart lurched here- babies? The clothes she wore, after all, were very old fashioned, so she had to be at least ninety. Grandma Maria(God rest her soul) lost a baby before she had my mom. She planted two white roses in her garden for them, which always bloomed on her baby's birthday. She said she'd have went insane with nothing to care for. Was that what happened to this lady? Wincing, I found myself walking over as she stood up.

"E-Excuse me?"

Within a second she spun around. Shoving her shoulders back she stuck her chin out.

"Do you mind?" she muttered testily. Her voice was young, fresher than lemon and just as sharp. Was she younger than I'd assumed?

"Sorry, I just, uh, thought I should-"

"Go away." She advanced like a black shadow creeping along a wall. "Go on!"

I needed no more prompting than this. Without another word I strode off at such a pace that I didn't even see the figure stood a few feet away just behind the statue of Mary, watching me like a leapard watches pray.


End file.
